


First Sight

by thepouringrain



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Breathplay, First Meetings, Knifeplay, M/M, Oral Sex, Public Sex, handjob, mormor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-12
Updated: 2013-02-12
Packaged: 2017-11-29 02:27:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/681667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thepouringrain/pseuds/thepouringrain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stranger Sebastian Moran catches Jim Moriarty's curiousity in the street.</p>
            </blockquote>





	First Sight

It could have been called love at first sight, except for the fact that it was never love. It was an intense lust on Jim’s side, a feeling returned by Sebastian with the addition of utter devotion. This had been the case from the moment Jim Moriarty first approached Sebastian Moran, forcing the man to wrestle a smashed beer bottle from his hand that he had thrust dangerously at him, before tackling him with a possibly even fiercer kiss. Jim had followed the man there, had seen him walk past in the street and saw everything there was to possibly see: ex-military, homosexual, Oxford, Eton, smoker, drinker and sadomasochist. 

The kiss was returned with vigour, and Jim soon found himself being pushed roughly up against a wall at the back of the pub by a knife held to his throat, “In case you try anything else”. He didn’t, except pickpocket the man and put his number into his phone, before replacing it again. Sebastian was too preoccupied to notice, his free hand wrapped around their cocks. 

Sebastian came first; lustful wonder filling his eyes as he stared down at Jim, before being disarmed and pushed down moments later onto his knees in order to suck the shorter man off. As Sebastian wrapped his lips around Jim’s cock, Jim ran his fingers through Sebastian’s military-style-cut-gone-feral hair with detached curiosity. Jim was yet to even speak to the man and yet here he was, sucking Jim’s balls and giving him some of the best head he’d ever received. This was going to be an interesting partnership. 

After Sebastian was done, hungrily licking every last drop of semen before zipping up his pants all with meticulous care, Jim reached under the collar of Sebastian’s shirt to find the chain of the dog tags he was certain he would find. He pulled at it, reading the tag to find out the soldier’s name before twisting the chain so that it was wrapped tightly around Sebastian’s neck like a leash. He held it there for a moment, watching as it began to constrict the man’s breathing, wondering whether he would fight back again. This time however, Sebastian remained still, his face set and his eyes averted from Jim’s. He simply knelt there at Jim’s feet, staring not at Jim’s face but instead at his tie and collar. Jim realised what this was, what this man was saying to Jim and to himself. Sebastian Moran, recently dismissed from the British Army, was a willing participant in whatever game Jim Moriarty wanted to play. Why? He was lost without the war, lost without the army. The only danger he had found back in London was self-inflicted: alcoholism, chain smoking and contemplations of suicide. Yet suddenly here he found himself in the hands of stranger, of a man who knew all about the risking of lives for thrills. And he was Sebastian Moran, staring at the collar of Jim Moriarty, ready to submit himself to authority and subject himself to danger once more. 

Jim smirked down at the unseeing man, before yanking roughly at the thin chain so as to pull him up onto his feet again. He then reached up to unravel the twisted chain and pull it over and off Sebastian’s head. Sebastian let out a disgruntled growl at this.

“Hush, tiger,” Jim purred, “You’re mine now. You don’t need this anymore.” 

Pocketing the dog tags, Jim smiled, reaching back up to kiss Sebastian’s mouth. He pushed his tongue inside to find the remnant taste of his own come mixed with the taste of Sebastian’s saliva. Sebastian’s hands went to grab Jim, but Jim caught them and pulled them behind Sebastian’s back, locking them together in a military-like stance. They were strong hands and had felt incredible wrapped around his cock… they would look even better wrapped around a gun or breaking an enemy’s neck. 

With his hands bound by Jim’s, Sebastian instead began to fight back with his tongue, smirking against Jim’s lips as their mouths fought for dominance once more. This kiss turned rough, the two men biting at each other and Jim pushing up against Sebastian until he was practically rutting against him. One of Jim’s hands kept hold of Sebastian’s wrists, but the other let go to grab the back of Sebastian’s neck, holding him down into the kiss with nails digging into the man’s skin in an attempt to coerce the man into surrendering. The sharp pain however, only made Sebastian moan into the kiss, the breath from his nose heavy against Jim’s skin as they both clung on to each other’s lips, feasting in turn on the taste of semen and whiskey. 

It was Jim’s turn to growl, in frustration this time, but with his distraction Sebastian managed to free one of his hands from behind his back, reach round and grab Jim’s arse. As a counterattack, Jim bit down hard on the inside of Sebastian’s bottom lip, drawing blood. The already rough kiss was now messy too; the blood from Sebastian’s mouth was soon reddening Jim’s lips. With the shock of the pain, however, Sebastian had forgotten to concentrate on breathing and was soon forced to pull away for air, blood dripping from his mouth as he did so. Jim licked his own lips clean, looking ferocious in his victory. 

“You’re never going to beat Daddy, Sebastian, but I don’t mind you trying,” He leered at Sebastian, straightening the man’s shirt collar and jacket for him. 

Jim noticed the man had resumed the position that he had forced him into just before: arms held together behind his back in parade rest. 

“There’s a good boy,” He murmured, reaching down to brush his hand against the trouser fabric covering Sebastian’s crotch. 

Reaching into his own jacket pocket he pulled out a silk handkerchief and passed it to Moran, sliding it over his blood-covered chin before walking around Sebastian to place it in the man’s hands which remained clasped together behind him. Jim stood on his tiptoes to trail his tongue the purpling scratch marks he’d left on the back of his neck and then nipping at the skin playfully. 

“See you soon, Sebastian,” Jim breathed against the skin of the man’s exposed neck.

He turned on his heel and walked out of the alleyway, leaving Sebastian there still panting for breath.


End file.
